zeptember

Friday, April 30, 2010 was my last day as an assistant teacher in the 1st & 2nd grade classroom. The school and I knew about this for two weeks, but neither side took a lot of action to figure out where to place me come Monday, May 3, after I helped out with that class’ movie field trip.

On Monday, I showed up for work and got through the field trip and was no longer needed by 11:30am. I tried to find the director so we could discuss where next to place me, since I am still not ready to go back to the outdoor classroom.

The director was not in.

I wrote a letter to the director and placed it in her box. The letter detailed the time off I will be needing for doctor’s appointments and my upcoming trip to Michigan to see family I’ve not seen in six years. I ended the letter with a note about needing to discuss my chemical sensitivity issues, as it would affect my next placement.

She never got back to me, so I talked to the school secretary, who told me to phone the director at home.
I phoned and left a message.

She called later that night, and with a weary edge to her voice, told me to just come in on Tuesday.

I showed up on Tuesday, and the director was not there. She never set foot in the office, which meant she never read my letter.

I decided I would see how much I could take of one morning in the outdoor classroom.

I found out that in an effort to accommodate me, the owner of the school had purchased new foam floor pads to replace the old mildewed pads, and had also purchased some kind of anti-microbial light-weight carpet to replace some of the mildewed carpets.

The outdoor classroom is covered by a burlap roof, with a corrugated plastic roof over the top of that. One wall is cinderblock, as it divides the property from the neighborhood behind the school. One wall is old wood over drywall (with an indoor classroom behind it), one wall is plastic sliding doors which separates the classroom from the playground, and the fourth wall is what appears to be the original back of the building, as it is made of brick.

In the Montessori sense of the word, this is not an actual outdoor classroom at all. A true outdoor classroom would be akin to a large backyard, brimming with shrubbery, trees, gardens, flower beds and the like, for children to learn gardening, botany and observation of the natural world.

This is however a first step for the school I work at. This outdoor classroom is basically the art room; it contains all the messy jobs teachers don’t want the pre-kindergarten students doing inside.

As such, this particular outdoor classroom has a lot of tempura paint, a sandbox, a topsoil container to dig in, water pouring jobs, colouring jobs, play-doh, and water colour paints.
Recently added to this classroom is some kind of clay, which has gotten everywhere, because my co-teacher thinks her students should be free in their association with very wet clay - she wants to provide the maximum sensory experience for them, but unfortunately the parents and teachers are complaining about how messy the children and their clothes are, and the brand new carpets are already coated in the stuff.

When I set eyes upon the classroom I have been absent from for two months, I nearly panicked, it was such a mess.

The co-teacher told me she was ordered by the school owner to wash the filthy carpets, so she flung them from the floor and I saw to my horror that the teacher had laid the new carpets on top of the old mildewed foam padding. I told her the old padding had to go. She thought we could just put the new flooring on top of the old flooring for extra padding. I told her no way, sorry, it has to go.

Beneath the foam padding is dirty, dusty asphalt. The teacher set to work sweeping after she peeled up the old foam pads, and I stood back, and wondered if I should just leave altogether.

But of course I didn’t. It’s that whole ‘if I can’t see the damage then it isn’t happening’ type thinking again. I knew full well there were dust particles and major allergens in the air, but I did not observe them directly, so I did not leave the scene.

Once my co-teacher finished sweeping, she flung down a new pack of padded Best Step Anti-Fatigue Flooring for me to help her open. It made a huge dust cloud and I jumped back, covering my face. She apologised and laughed nervously - she did not expect the dust cloud because in her mind, she’d just cleaned.

We set to work opening up the new padded flooring, and immediately I was choking on the chemical offgassing. It smelled like auto tires, but 100 times stronger.

I had already been chemically exposed first thing that morning by walking into two classrooms to drop off clipboards (because parents are still sending heavily perfumed children to school), but unwrapping the flooring put me over the limit, and I developed a headache and sore throat.

I removed myself immediately from the outdoor classroom and looked up the flooring. It is made of Ethyl Vinyl Acetate (EVA) foam, and per the company’s FAQ, they do not use any lead or latex during the production of the foam, and they do not chemically treat the foam, despite the packaging also saying it is anti-microbial and water resistant.

And yet there I was, choking, gagging, sore throat, headache. The company that makes the foam, and my workplace will say I have been accommodated.

The company FAQ also says, “All EVA foam products will have an odor when you initially open them up. This odor will dissipate over time. The odor is not harmful. Putting them in an open air area will help with the initial odor,” and that it is safe for children.

Ugh.

I went to Healthy Child based on the links Susie sent me. They have an article on EVA foam, and they say, “Ethylene vinyl acetate (EVA) has been the safer substitute for PVC for several years.”

At that point, I felt like I’m falling through the cracks. I removed myself from the outdoor classroom and I wrote my director another letter. This time, the letter focused on chemical sensitivity. I included the link to the new fragrance free guidelines at the Centers For Disease Control. I included a link to the Healthy Child, Healthy World website, which has information on getting one’s school on a fragrance free policy.

I didn’t hear back from the director.

I went back to work to help with the lunch rush for four different classrooms, and then took my regularly scheduled lunch break. On my lunch break, I asked teachers where I could assist them that afternoon. Nobody needed me, so halfway through my lunch break, I left work for the day.

Today I tried it again. I showed up at my scheduled time and unloaded children from their cars and saw the children off to their classrooms. After that, I was on my own. The director of course was nowhere to be found once again, and the fragrance overload was in full force in the pre-kindergarten rooms I used to work in all the time a year ago.
The classroom I had spent the last two months substituting in no longer needed me, now that their head teacher had returned from sick leave.

So I went back to the outdoor classroom and asked if I could help set anything up. My co-teacher was fuming that the carpets she’d hosed down yesterday still were not clean enough. She said something, though:

“I thought about what you were saying about chemicals, and do you know what? When I was hosing down the carpets yesterday with plain water, foam bubbles that looked soapy came out of the carpets, and I thought AHA! This is what Steph was talking about! They say it’s not chemically treated, but it is!”

I am so glad someone there is GETTING IT.
I found a dust mask and while my co-teacher re-hosed the carpets, I set to work with gloved hands and hot soapy water to remove the clay-encrusted tables and chairs in the outdoor classroom. Once that was finished, I sharpened all the coloured pencils for my teacher, and found a giant moth and moth’s nest in one of the pencil baskets. Feathers or something flew everywhere. That poor classroom has been so neglected in my absense! I was not wearing my dust mask when the moth’s nest incident occurred.

While the co-teacher took a group out to the front of the school for gardening class, I stayed behind with some students who wanted to do general outdoor classroom jobs, like colouring, sorting, sandbox, pouring, and other Montessori Practical Life and Art “jobs”.

At 11am, I helped my co-teacher close the classroom for the morning so we could transition to the lunch hour. I got through the next hour and a half of what I call The Lunch Rush, and that’s when the director finally appeared to me and called me in her office.

She and the teacher I had been substituting for had been talking. The teacher is back to work but not 100% yet, and can only work half days, so they need me to fill in at several points during the day. We went over the schedule and it takes care of me pretty nicely so that I can remain employed and working inside again. Out of all of the classrooms, it seems that the Kindergarten room, the 1st/2nd room, and 3rd/4th/5th room are the only three rooms where I can function without need of a hazmat suit. I have no idea why parents, children and teachers prefer to bathe in fragrance and chemicals in the other classrooms.

It’s a temporary solution for me, but works for now.

After we got past that schedule, I asked the director if she had time to read the two letters I’d sent her. She said she had not yet touched the letters.

So I rehashed everything - my new regular schedule of doctor appointments for pain management for the endometriosis, and my ongoing limitations that crop up as concerns chemical sensitivity.

Her response to the chemical sensitivity is that the world is becoming more and more aware of environmental issues, and as people become more aware, they might become sensitive to things, but really, people just have to remember that they were always fine before, and nothing is different now except for the fact that we are conscious of environmental toxins all around us.

I sat through all of this commentary, and thought carefully about my words.

When the director was finished, I started at the beginning; I was allergic to a lot of things in childhood, but my mother exposed me to these things despite knowing I was allergic, because she didn’t have the coping tools or the financial resources to help me. The worst thing it seemed I battled, according to my own memory, was second-hand cigarette smoke. By the 1990s, I became chemically sensitive to perfumes and colognes. By the year 2000, I could no longer wear scented oils because of chemical sensitivity.

And that was the extent of it, until September 2009, when within a span of thirty days, I had gotten my house sprayed with Deltamethrin to stop the numerous ant invasions (after trying most if not all available natural remedies), purchased a new foam bed and new foam pillows to try to help soften my and my husband’s severe dust mite allergies, and I began working in the outdoor classroom.
Working in the outdoor classroom also coincided with the regular change of season to Autumn, and the regular cycle of cold and flu season.

A perfect storm for an immunological freakout, if I ever saw one.

I think this got through to my director.

I then mentioned the CDC recently going fragrance free, and the Healthy Child, Healthy World references to creating a fragrance free school.

The director withdrew her understanding and sympathy at this point, citing how enough parents are already upset with the recent change last year to a nut-free school environment, and one parent even took her child to a new school because of the nut-free policy. She does not want to chance, in this economy, losing more parents and teachers for that matter to a forced fragrance free policy.

We ended our discussion with her saying I am one of her best employees, and that she’d hate to lose me, and that she’ll do what she can within reason for the school’s sake… but…
I told her we will both see what we can do, and for how long, and whatever happens, happens.

So right now it’s a battle to get to the end of the school year on June 11 - just over one month - and then I will take the summer off as planned to go to school to finish my head teacher certification.

Sadly, during my meeting with the director, my husband left me a message, which I retrieved right after my emotional meeting with the director:

The departmental head at his work just handed in his notice, and now the future of the entire department is uncertain - it may be absorbed into other areas of the company, or killed outright. My husband could lose his job very soon.

This means I cannot go back to school this summer. It means both of us are likely losing our jobs and we both have to start job hunting quick. It will be a lot easier for my husband to get another job, and he’s the much highly paid head of household, anyway.

And we’ve already got a bunch of money spent and allocated to a trip back home next week to visit my family whom I’ve not seen in six years.

I’m a bit stressed out at the moment, which I know isn’t going to help my compromised immune system. I came this close to breaking my 125-day sobriety streak (sobriety meaning I’m a social-setting alcoholic, not a full time at home, at work, sneaking drinks type alcoholic).

Instead of drinking shots, I ate sushi. :p

Alcohol is a central nervous system (CNS) depressant. I blacked out on alcohol last Saturday night and spent the entire next day on bedrest, I was so hung over. As of today, I’m still dehydrated. It is not a surprise that I’m also seriously depressed since Sunday.

I had my head shrink appointment yesterday and talked a little about what happened. I expected the shrink to listen to me, but instead she spent the hour interjecting her assumptions about my behaviour, and also disbelieving my reasons and insecurities. She’s never been this bad, before. I was highly annoyed by this, and finally told her to STOP.
I told her I don’t think we’re a good fit and that I’m really doubting whether to continue with her.

Examples of the things she said to me was:

“You didn’t HAVE to go to your husband’s reunion - he makes enough money, he could have just let it go.”
NO, I committed to go and wanted to go to show support for him. He was really anxious and nervous himself about this. And although he makes “enough money”, he can be very frugal, and has actually been QUITE frugal since finally realising that I’ve become financially dependent upon him because my job pays jack shit and I’ve spent the last three years trying to make a living outside of dotcom work so that I don’t end up in a fucking padded cell.

“You could have left the room / left the reunion all together once you were attempting to take that first drink”.
NO, I couldn’t - when the anxiety sets in that way, I become rooted and fixed, like a deer caught in headlights. I endure rather than extricate. That is what my mind does to me. I’ve been going over this with you from session one.
That woman actually argued with me on this, and kept saying, “yes, yes you could have left, I think it would have been okay.”

HELLO! NOT LISTENING!!!

She began to plead with me to try rehab and at this point I got verbally combative with her. I had full on attitude at this point. Not using expletives or calling her names or anything like that - just being VERY assertive in my refusal and saying I don’t CARE about anyone else’s sob story in group therapy, it’s a total waste of my time and energy when I’m telling you up front that I’m not on board with it, and besides, sending me to a group type therapy situation when I have severe social phobia is counterproductive and will lead me into the bottle faster than you can say BOO.

And then she wanted to talk about my dysfunctional fundamentalist family again. She returns to this subject every time we’re in session. I told her she’s fascinated by this story of mine. She called my family ‘tragic’.
I told her having to talk about my upbringing and my family has dredged up a lot of anger and anxiety. I told her I came to therapy to discuss my social anxiety issues - the anxiety which leads me to drink alcohol when I’m out. I told her the family issues are a whole other topic.

Again she went back to false assumptions about my social alcoholic behaviour and I had to tell her to STOP. I told her she can’t ever think I’m making progress, and she can’t ever assume that a certain social situation WILL lead me to drink. I cited several examples of where I’d be led to drink in one case but not in the other, for the same type of event or outing.
She responded with “it makes it very hard to treat you.”

WELL! I’m so sorry I’m not nicely fitted into one of your psychological DSMs!

We ended the session with her asking me what my availability is for next week. I responded, “bedridden”. It’ll be george time again.
She penciled me in sometime during the first week of November, but I am now seriously doubting whether I want to continue with this woman.

I feel like I’m left to fight through my social phobia alone, once again.

In other news, I have not gotten another canker sore since Saturday. I threw away the chapstick with clove oil, thinking perhaps my body is allergic to it, or that it had become contaminated. And I’ve been rehydrating with pedialyte and with electrolyte water since Sunday.

The depression is the worst, right now.

We’re four days from our one year wedding anniversary, and I have no interest in celebrating it. There’s a big ugly reason in there too that I don’t want to get into. The hint is trust - ruined in May, 2009.

We’re ten days away from Halloween and have no definite plans for that day/night, or that weekend for that matter. We have barely decorated the house this year. The haunted backyard isn’t happening because no one had time to give to it this year (but I’ve been fine with that - just wanted to note that it’s not happening in case I look back and say, “what, did you cancel your haunted backyard due to depression?” No, it got cancelled and I am actually happy about that).

I need to get past this bout of depression.

I told my therapist what I need right now is ativan to help me because I’m either going to continue to get into that bottle to manage my anxiety and stress, or I’m going to continue taking vicoprofen to calm the hell down, when vicoprofen is supposed to be for my endometriosis pain, NOT stress.

She wrote a letter to my doctor urging him to prescribe ativan for me, then gave me a lecture on how not to abuse it. I rolled my eyes at her and told her I’ve been on this for short term periods less than a handful of times in my life. I basically told HER to chill out.

Seriously. She’s fired. I’m looking for a new shrink.

Two more things - my eyes are still weeping sticky, itchy goo, and yesterday the goo went from clear-coloured to white. I’ve been using Naphcon-A allergy eye drops since yesterday but it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. I made an appointment to see my eye doctor - that appointment is tomorrow.

I’ve also been wracking my brains as to what’s causing me to be so sensitive suddenly to chemicals. I had a disturbing revelation yesterday - I likely caused this myself by consenting to have my house sprayed down with Deltamethrin to rid us of the severe ant problem we had over the summer. The ant spraying happened in late August or early September, and after all the bitching I did about having autoimmune issues and not wanting the spray, I not only caved in and allowed it, I actually WALKED IN DURING THE SPRAYING because I forgot something petty before leaving the house. I had my nose and mouth fully covered by two shirts when I walked in, but still.
If the initial exposure didn’t do it, perhaps coming back to the house several hours after spraying did it and I’m just that sensitive, like I had feared. We should have stayed out of the house with the cats overnight.

I have had a lot of self-hatred going on lately, which magnifies the depression. Let’s see if I make it out alive.

On Saturday I got in to see the doctor to find out if I still had pink eye. I had woken up with crusties in my eyes that morning, and I was still experiencing light sensitivity and itchy eyes, but they never got that stereotypical red gross infected look the entire time I’ve had pink eye. My eyes looked bloodshot at times but even that was fleeting.

Before going to the doctor’s office, another canker sore popped out.
The doctor I saw was not the same doctor I saw last time (it’s always whoever is on duty). She told me that my lymph nodes were swollen again, and that a canker sore MIGHT cause the lymph nodes to be swollen. More than that, she said that a virus MIGHT ALSO cause a canker sore. The previous doctor had said a canker sore would NOT cause swollen lymph nodes, and had said that canker sores are NOT caused by viruses.

The doctor examined my eyes and said I was over the worst of it, and cleared me to go out in public without running the risk of infecting people. She said point blank that I was no longer contagious but that I should continue to practice frequent hand washing until the virus has run its course.

I showed her the canker sore and she said any stress, mentally or physically on the body, could cause canker sores. She said having a virus is a stress on the body.

I told her about the eye drops feeling like they were making my eyes worse, and how I got diarrhea and sore throat - I told her I suspect those are side effects to the eye drops because I discontinued the drops for over 24 hours and the diarrhea and sore throat cleared. I began using the eye drops again and got the same side effect the next morning - that morning of the doctor appointment.
The doctor examined my throat and found that it was indeed inflamed. She told me it was okay to discontinue the eye drops and that no replacement antibiotic drops were necessary, and she said her staff would dispose of the drops (I had brought them with me).

At the close of the visit, we went over my blood test results - the thyroid and the liver blood panels came back perfect. I asked the doctor if I was in the high end of normal or the low end of normal for the thyroid panel - she said I was smack in the middle of normal. Hooray! But boo! I was kinda hoping that I could explain some of the pelvic pain away with a thyroid issue, but I guess my thyroid is fine. Which means the endometriosis is still rife within me. Simply taking a thyroid medicine won’t help rid me of the pain. I need to get another surgery to carve out the endometriosis, if it is even able to be carved out.
Ugh. Surgery. Ugh, being cut open. Ugh, $1,500 or more out of pocket co-pay. Ugh, two solid weeks off work again. Ugh, recovery is a bitch. You see why I’d rather it have been a thyroid issue which I could just take a pill for?
I’m not giving up on the thyroid issue, dammit. My ‘normal’ body temperature is around 97.5°F. THAT screams hypothyroidism.

I got home from the doctor’s office and told my husband the good news - I could accompany him to his 20-year high school reunion, because the doctor said I was no longer highly contagious.

However, as the day progressed, the canker sore got bigger, and bigger and for the first time since I began getting the canker sores, this one actually hurt.

We went out that night and I fell off the wagon. I drank about a bottle to a bottle and a half worth of red wine. I am told I did not make an ass out of myself and that although visibly drunk I was on par with everyone else - and fine in that regard - all night. I blacked out toward the end of the night though. I don’t remember anything. Next memory I have is of me puking in the bathroom sink.
I got drunk because I was experiencing social phobia, and I was triggered by being in the same room with some of the people who tormented my husband in high school. This triggered me because my 20-year high school reunion was last month and I did not go to it because I still harbour resentment towards many of my class mates for how much they picked on me. That and I just couldn’t afford to fly out there.

The thing is, this morning from the time I woke up, I have not been this sick since I overdosed on LIQUOR.
But all I drank all night was wine.
Today I have been severely nauseated and have had the spins for the entire day. It was so bad that I remained bedridden all day. I barely ate anything. Even drinking water was difficult because of how nauseous I’ve been.
My husband took a shower and when he got out and returned to the bedroom to get dressed, I was overwhelmed with fragrance emanating from him. It was just his shampoo. It wasn’t even the horrid hair product which has keeled me over in the past. Just the fragrance in his shampoo set me off today and I staggered out of the bedroom choking for air and went and laid on the couch after setting up a fan to blow cool air in from outside.

This is really disconcerting for me. If I suddenly can no longer handle the fragrance in shampoo, it really is time to switch to a scent-free household. Last week it was the hand lotion a teacher gifted me with, which just the week before had been fine. Now suddenly the scent made me gag and gave me headaches. Yesterday we went to Sephora so I could buy new makeup (because when you get pink eye, you have to throw away your makeup), and being in that store gave me a headache and it was difficult to breathe. I did not have that problem the last time I was in that store, which was a couple of months ago.

What triggers multiple chemical sensitivity like that? Is it because I caught a virus? Will I go back to being able to handle the scent in my husband’s shampoo or is it a permanent new sensitivity?

I was able to calm my tummy for a bit with some lemongrass/chamomile tea, and by dinnertime I was actually hungry. My husband got us some thai food - I ate a little bit of vegetable pad thai and drank some thai coconut soup, and then my stomach became all unsettled again. I took some ginger tea that my husband brought home, and that helped.

But seriously? This sick off of wine?
Either I really have lost any sense of booze tolerance or someone put something in my drink last night. I don’t dare try to find out which it was. I just don’t want to drink booze of any sort. I want this feeling of avoidance to stay with me.

The canker sore popped sometime between last night and this morning. It left a crater, which is still painful and irritated.

Nice going on the one sick to another, there.

And I was hoping to have a few weeks with good health before the pelvic pain returned. Instead, I’ve been wrestling with a virus caught from work and social alcoholism. Way to go.

Just…don’t do that again.

I have no idea if I’ll be well enough to return to work tomorrow, which stresses me out.

Back on August 3, I mentioned I’d done a phone interview and would be going in for an appointment with a specialist for the social alcoholism.

Today was the appointment. I was there for all of 10 minutes before leaving. Apparently, I am disqualified because I take Tylenol 3 each month for debilitating endometriosis. Tylenol 3 contains codeine, a controlled substance. The program I’m trying to enroll in is a substance abuse program, and they have basic rules, one of which being that no substances, even for medical conditions, are to be taken while enrolled in the program.

I explained that I have endometriosis, and said that I’m meeting with a surgeon this Wednesday, but it was not likely that the surgeon would put me on any new medication that isn’t also an opiate to treat the pain while awaiting a second surgery for the endo.

The doctor conducting the in-person interview said he was sorry, but he had basic rules to follow. I became upset and told him our time had been wasted. He told me I should have mentioned the meds during the phone interview. I told him I was never asked, and that I would have disclosed the meds immediately.
He went back through my paperwork and said, “ah, one of the front desk people did the interview…” which let me know that I had initially been filtered through an incompetent who would ultimately be dealt with.
The doctor walked me out and lingered by the front desk as I exited, perhaps to have a word with the woman sitting there. I’m not sure she’s the one who took my info by phone - I think it was a guy, actually - but as long as they’re all given a what for, I’m okay with that. I’m so pissed off.

My time was wasted, I felt humiliated even though it wasn’t my fault, and now I’m dealing with rejection issues on top of having to brave going out into the big scary world first thing in the morning to a place that isn’t my day job.

I cried a little when I got home, but I don’t have time for a full on meltdown. I have to scarf down some food and get to work in the next half hour.

I called my psychologist and left a message letting her know what happened. I feel she is to blame as well, because she knows full well what meds I’m on for endometriosis and should have known that referring me to a substance abuse program for the alcohol would also entail a ban on my opiate medication. There will be words at our next meeting.

Lastly, now I may have to pay for this fucking rejection visit. I will fight it if billed.

So… I’m still not upholding my promise to stop drinking in 2009. As a matter of fact, I’ve blacked out drinking three times in the last two months; June 20, July 9, July 31.
All three times were social events with people I already know and have hung out with. Of the three, one was on a weeknight, where I had to go in to work the next day severely hungover, because my co-worker had partied with me the night before and I knew she’d call in sick, so I couldn’t.

I put myself in therapy for the social anxiety drinking on July 20th, and have only had two sessions before I got too drunk again.

Apparently I was so drunk this past Friday that when my husband came home, he found me trying to give the TV remote a drink of water with the water pitcher.

I woke up around 8am with no pants on and still in my tee shirt, bra and undies. That’s the first moment I realised I’d gotten blackout drunk again. I know that I did not blackout until I got home, because I recall leaving the bar and saying goodnight to my friends. In fact, both of my friends who were with me til the end of the night told me even today that they are amazed I told them I was so smashed, because they thought I behaved very well and only slightly drunk.

Well that’s good to hear, I guess…

But my husband was really upset with me. He was pretty depressed over having come home and seeing me like that. It reminded him of a very aweful experience we shared down in San Diego four years ago when I got blackout drunk. I’ve not touched Long Island Ice Teas and especially Gin ever since that episode, which nearly ended our relationship.

I spent all of yesterday housebound. I was despondent and even suicidal at times. Alcohol is a CNS depressant, after all. I was humiliated at what I’d gone and done again. I keep telling my husband I’ll stop drinking at social events and I keep failing him and me. I don’t do this when we’re out to dinner. I don’t do this at home with our wide assortment of wines and liquors right there in the open.
I drank water all day yesterday to no avail - I barely urinated all day. It wasn’t until I got some pedialyte and SmartWater and drank that regularly last night into today that I could feel my body start to detox a bit. Ugh.

I’ve gotten too old for this shit.

Nothing I do or say aloud or think or write down or vow - nothing helps. I still keep getting super drunk to quell the noise when I’m out at social events.

Third therapy session is tomorrow evening.

August 3, 2009 Edit:
Had a good session with the shrink tonight. Got some good info. Scheduled to meet with outpatient rehab in two weeks. Until then, I’ve grounded myself from the following social outings: bar night, tiki night, concerts, clubs, parties, group dinner gatherings, picnics and BBQs.

I will be telling people I may hang with one-on-one about the drinking and rehab, and that more than anything, if people wanna hang with me right now, NO BOOZE PLZ anywhere near me. If yer drinkin, I’m not hangin.